Once upon a time, someone told me something like the following story:
Once a upon a time, a child was born to talented musical parents. They decided that the child should be raised in complete isolation from the human, musical world, and that its only aural companions should be the sounds of the birds and animals of the fields and the forests.
After seven years of this musically isolated upbringing, the parents finally introduced their child to a piano, and were all aquiver to see what the young child would do.
After hitting the keys of the piano and beginning to understand their function, the child, slowly, but with increasing confidence, picked out the simple beauty of Bach’s C major prelude from Book I of the Well-tempered Clavier...
I have rarely been so irritated.